


Rue (The Flower of Regret)

by xcharlieslove



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Happy Ending, I promise, M/M, Prompt Fic, no smut sorry, offensive language, the major character death happens before the story starts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 12:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xcharlieslove/pseuds/xcharlieslove
Summary: “Frank. This is Mikey, my little brother.” Frank looks down at the headstone again. He sees a young boy with blond hair and glasses looking up at him with a small, shy smile. Michael Way, he reads.Gerard continues, speaking towards the gravestone this time. “Mikey, this is Frank. I just met him today. He came to see you.”“Nice to meet you…” Frank says, over politely. He looks up at Gerard with pursed eyebrows, at a loss of what to do next. He flexes his hands nervously at his sides.Gerard steals flowers from Frank's garden every week. One day he is caught red handed by Frank. He demands to see the girl that would be worth stealing for. So, he makes Gerard take him to meet her.





	Rue (The Flower of Regret)

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a prompt I saw on tumblr. I hope everyone likes it! Thanks to my friend who kept pumping me up and keeping me motivated. I swear it has a happy ending!

_“Gerard come on! Can we please leave? Mom said we had to be back home by eleven. And I have a project due in my second period tomorrow.” Mikey complains, tugging on Gerard’s sleeve. His brother continues to ignore him, chugging the lukewarm beer with his other hand. Mikey pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his finger, looking around the room out of the corner of his eye disdainfully. The house was full of party-goers. All either drunk, high, or some variation of in-between. To Mikey, it’s frightening._

_He doesn’t drink, but sure, Mikey enjoys a nice blunt here and there. But in the privacy of his own basement. Listening to Black flag and eating shitty food with Gerard. This? Hundreds of underaged kids grinding and sweating and yelling over each other and the loud, banging music? Horrifying. He wanted to go home._

_Gerard finishes the beer and slams the can down onto the counter, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “God Mikes. Calm down. It’s not even midnight yet!” Gerard defends, swaying as he squints at the clock on the wall. Mikey grabs hold of his arm to steady him. It’s weird, Gerard thinks. Since when did the numbers dance around on monologue clocks? Shit. Maybe he was drunk. It’s fine, right? Nothing ever happens at high school parties anyway._

_“Plus” Gerard continues, “we’re gonna be rock stars one day! We have to build up our tolerance for this kind of shit!” Gerard smiles crookedly as he shakes off Mikey’s hand, chuckling. “Quite being such a bitch and loosen up a bit.” He slurs as he stumbles out of the kitchen in search of more alcohol._

_“Gerard! Come on man! I’m tired!” Mikey shouts after his brother, willing him to listen. It’s true, he was tired. He was also on the verge of an anxiety attack. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this” Mikey thinks grudgingly, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. Gerard wasn’t even in high school anymore. Why did he have to follow him to a high school party? Oh right. Free booze. Gerard found it was easiest to get into high school parties if he tagged along with an actual high schooler. That’s how Mikey found himself dragged to house party after house party. It was starting to worry Mikey; how much Gerard was drinking. He didn’t want anything bad happening to him._

_Mikey spends the next few hours wandering around the house. It was so destroyed and littered with garbage and passed out bodies that he couldn’t remember exactly who’s house he was in anymore. He hoped they wouldn’t get into too much trouble when morning came._

_He was doing his best so far of maneuvering couples so as not to have to interact with anyone. He had just huddled into a corner by the chip bowls to wait out the rest of the night when he suddenly heard his name being shouted from outside._

_Immediately, Mikey is sprinting out the front door, fearing the worst. When he gets down the front steps, he’s already looking around for Gerard. He quickly finds him on the edge of the lawn, a small crowd surrounding him. Mikey pushes through, elbowing someone much harder than he intended to in his panic. He’d have to apologize later. Gerard is on his hands and knees, hurling into the lawn. Mikey can see his shoulders trembling from the exertion. Mikey sighs, calming down a bit. He kneels next to his brother, holding back his greasy hair as he continues to vomit. This, Mikey is used to. Gerard tends to not know his limits, even at 19._

_It wasn’t until Gerard finished and sat back onto his knees that he saw what had had people calling his name over his shoulders. Gerard had blood running down his face from his nose and his eyes were red and watering. His cheeks were splotchy and his hands were shaking._

_“What the fuck, Gerard! Are you okay? What did you do?” Mikey shouts worriedly. He reaches up to wipe at the blood when Gerard smacks his hands away._

_“Calm the fuck down, Mikes.” Gerard’s voice is gruff and weak. He uses the back of his hand to wipe at his nose but ends up just smearing the drying blood across his cheek. “’m fine. I just fell and hit my face. I got motion sickness or some shit. I dunno. ‘m fine now, Don’ even feel sick.” The longer Gerard talked, the more slurred his words became._

_Mikey was suddenly furious. Did Gerard not care about anyone but himself? “You can’t do shit like this, dude. You’ve gotta fucking control yourself, man! Haven’t you ever heard of alcohol poisoning? You can’t drink like this for months straight with no consequences! And what about when we get home? How are you going to hide this from mom and dad?” Mikey continues to growl out, fed up with his brother’s antics._

_He reaches for Gerard’s elbow, attempting to help him stand so they could head home, only to be thrown back by Gerard’s palm against his face. His glasses are pushed painfully into the bridge of his nose. He’s pretty sure he hears them crack beneath the force. Mikey falls back onto the lawn, his head hitting the ground, as his whole back becomes damp with the early morning dew. Luckily, the grass cushioned most of the fall, but his tailbone and head were already starting to ache._

_Mikey was barely hurt, but the intent, however, was the same._

_Mikey looks up through his askew glasses in shock, chest hurting from the harsh rejection. Gerard had pushed him away before. Many times. Usually when he’s drunk. But it had never been like this. He had never pushed him to the point of harm._

_Gerard looks down in shock, clearly regretting how much strength he had used on his little brother. But Mikey was in the wrong, right? He had to stop treating him like a child. He was three years older than him. He wasn’t a child! It was always like this. Every time they went out, Mikey was there trying to control him. Why couldn’t Mikey just let him self-destruct in the easiest way he could find? Why did Mikey have to care about him…_

_God. Gerard was the asshole, wasn’t he? He was the one kneeling in some random kid’s lawn puking his guts out at two in the morning. Mikey was just trying to help him. Just like he always was. Constantly picking up after and taking care of Gerard. It should be the other way around. Gerard felt his heart constrict painfully. His hand flew to his chest, grabbing onto his hoodie for leverage. His eyes began to water as everything around him began crashing down. Suddenly, excruciatingly sober, Gerard realizes fully where he stands._

_“I’m so sorry, Mikey.” Gerard says quietly, not sure exactly what he was apologizing for. There was so much he should apologize for, it seems. He hoped Mikey would know._

_Gerard turns on his heels and dashes out into the street, trying to get away from everything he had done. Not just tonight, but everything he had done over the last few years he was so caught up in himself that he didn’t realize what he was doing to his little brother._

_Halfway across the street, Gerard hears Mikey yell his name. At the same time, he’s blinded by bright flashing lights just feet in front him and a horn blaring. It bounces around his skull like a grenade._

_It all happens quickly after that. The squealing tires, the smoke, the screaming of a dozen drunk teenagers. Gerard expects dying to happen quickly too. But it doesn’t. His body hurts, but not in the way he expected._

_He slowly opens his eyes, groaning in pain as his senses come back to him. As he sits up, his body overwhelmed with an aching pain. Everything hurts. His leg might be broken, but he’s so foggy and disoriented that he can’t bring himself to care. He looks up and around, just in time to see a truck’s rear lights speeding away down the street, only tire marks left behind. His head is spinning as he continues to look around. Then he sees him._

_No. NO. NONONONONO. This is not happening. It’s a nightmare. “Mikey!” Gerard screams. It echoes hauntingly down the dimly lit street. Mikey is lying still in the middle of the road. Just a small, crumpled shell of the boy he was. No, it’s not real. This blood isn’t Mikey’s. It couldn’t be. He was just there. He was just fine._

_“Michael!” Gerard sobs out as crawls over to him, the shock completely masking his own pain. Why? What had happened? How had this happened? Was it his fault? How was he alright when Mikey wasn’t? It should have been him._

_The realization of what had happened left Gerard spiraling. His entire body frozen, his mind both shutting down and running a million miles a minute. It really should have been him. Mikey had saved him. Pushed him out of the way. Why would he do that? After what had just happened? It should have been him!_

_Gerard grabs Mikey by the shoulders, pulling him into his lap. “Mikey? Mikes? Come on and open your eyes, baby bro. Come on!” Gerard screams, throat raw and face covered in tears. He pulls Mikey to his chest, gently rocking him. Mikey doesn’t move, doesn’t even flinch, causing Gerard to fall further into hysteria. He’s not sure exactly what’s happening. He’s screaming, body trembling and numb. His tears fall unchecked. He vaguely wonders if he’ll run himself dry. Or if he’ll ever be able to feel anything again._

_Gerard faintly hears police sirens approaching in the distance, but they don’t even register to him._

_Blood is soaking into his hoodie where Mikey’s body rests against his. It’s warm and sticky. Gerard ignores it. This couldn’t be happening anyway. This isn’t real. Sobs wrack his chest and stutter out through his chapped lips as he continues to rock his baby brother. It should have been him. It should have been him._

\--

Gerard jerks awake, panting and trembling. He throws his forearms across his flushed cheeks as he feels his eyes begin to overflow with tears. Not again. It’s been ten years. Why won’t it stop. The same nightmare. How many times would he be forced to watch his brother die? He wanted it all to end. How long would keeping up this façade be worth it? Gerard pauses, taking a few deep, shuddering breaths. For Mikey? Forever. It would always be worth it.

He hasn’t been the same. Not since that night. His smiles have never quite reached his eyes and his laughs never make his shoulders shake. He hasn’t sung or played guitar. All he does now is lie awake at night and draw no-name comics for a living. He’s had a couple hits, sure, a few storyboards that took off. But nothing in the last few years. His funds were withering quickly. It’s all he can do to make himself continue on day after day. He hasn’t had a drink of alcohol since that night. He hasn’t been happy since that night. He still hasn’t forgiven himself, or the truck driver that was never caught. It should have been him.

 No matter how hard he tried to forget it, he couldn’t. It was as if Mikey wouldn’t let him. Mikey, his sweet little brother. Well, sweet is a relative term. The kid was an asshole, to be honest. A nervous, sarcastic, anxious asshole. But Gerard loved him more than he ever imagined possible. They were going to spend forever together. Partners in crime. They were going to be famous. Make it big with their music and escape their shitty New Jersey town. Together.

Gerard turns his head to the side, glancing at the alarm clock on the bed side table. Another Wednesday. Another overcast autumn day. It was almost time to leave. He’d have to dress warm.

It was around eleven when Gerard finally leaves his small underground apartment. He remembered to dress warm this time; grey knit beanie and scarf firmly in place. After locking his front door behind him, he stuffs his frozen hands into the pockets of his jacket and shrugs his shoulders up in a weak attempt to fight off the cold. He turns away and slowly makes his way down the front steps and onto the sidewalk.

The walk to the cemetery was an emotional experience for Gerard. Sometimes amazing, sometimes panic attack inducing. There were some Wednesdays he would run down the gravel path to the cemetery, other Wednesdays he would be tempted to drink himself into a stupor just to gather the courage to approach the tombstone. But he never did. And he never missed a Wednesday with Mikey. Those were his days.

He also never forgot the flowers. He used to go all out. Entire bouquets every week. Lilies, white tulips, and for his own selfishness, asphodel and rue. Sometimes sunflowers and roses, on good days. Nowadays, however, it’s mainly what he can find. With his money from his drawings and comics dwindling, he couldn’t afford expensive bouquets anymore. Not if he planned on eating.

The autumn breeze is gentle, leaves crunching under his heavy footsteps. The wind trickles by, ruffling his hair. He sighs through his nose as he feels the strands tickle his ears and nape. It was getting quite long. Maybe it was time for a trim. He continues to make his way down the pavement, coming upon a worn gravel path that he had taken hundreds of times before. He takes the path, trying to enjoy the array of burgundy and orange colored leaves before they finally fall to the ground only to be trampled upon by more feet. It smelled fresh. It was relaxing.

Further up the path, away from any other neighbors and traffic was a small, stereotypically domestic house. White picket fence and all. It had a small garden out front. Seeming to grow every week. Gerard was impressed. Whoever lived there obviously cared deeply for the plants. There were both vegetables and various flowers, all tenderly cared for. Gerard thinks he even saw a few strawberry plants.

Gerard slows as he approaches the now familiar house. The tiny home seemed to have a relaxing effect on him, though he wasn’t sure why. It could just be its quiet beauty, or the way the paint was slightly peeling, and ivy ran up one side. But the vast colors and beauty of the plants in the front contrasted quite well with those things, giving it a serene, peaceful aura. That’s why Gerard had started approached the house at first, all those months ago. The flowers were Gerard’s favorite part.

He remembered the day he had noticed someone had moved in. There were no flowers or vegetables, just a couple cardboard boxes and a few other homey items strewn about the yard. It was more rundown back then, but still managed to hold the same tranquil spell over its spectators. Whoever lived here now clearly cared for their home. Gerard wondered what they were like. If they were as gentle as their home.

Noticing how long he had been hanging around the house, Gerard looks both ways down the path that the house was on. When he didn’t notice anyone approaching, he kneeled quickly beside the fence, snaking his arm through the pickets to grab a few flowers. He has done this many times already, so he knew where the flowers he wanted were. He grabs a few chrysanthemums, a tulip and a few stems off a small rue plant. He was reaching for some carnations when he’s suddenly reeling back in shock.

                “Yo asshole!” a gruff voice cuts through the quiet. Gerard jumps, immediately pulling his arm back through the slot in the fence, dropping the flowers he had gathered. “You realize those aren’t a free for all, right?” a frail man growls out loudly, suddenly appearing on the front step of the small house.

                Gerard stands quickly, hissing as he realizes he had scraped the back of his hand when pulling it out of the fence. He ignores it though, realizing he had been caught red handed. He looks up in shock, not knowing what to say to get out of the situation.

                Gerard starts inspecting who the voice had come from. The homeowner, apparently. Gerard was shocked to see a younger man standing on the porch, his back hunched and his arms crossed defensively across his chest. He was wearing a black hoodie and a pair of faded grey sweats. From the gruff voice alone, Gerard had expected someone much older and decrepit. He wasn’t old, Gerard thought, but he was definitely worse for wear. His skin was pale and shiny, and his eyes had deep bruises around them, obviously from exhaustion. Gerard was immediately both concerned and frightened.

                “What the fuck, man?” the guy continues, spreading his arms questioningly. “You’re the one that’s been stealing my flowers the last couple of weeks?” He follows this with a small round of coughs, covering his mouth with his fist.

                Gerard stares in shock. He didn’t think anyone had noticed. He’d never been confronted about it, and the garden still had plenty of flowers, so he didn’t think they’d really be missed. Apparently, he was wrong.

“I-I’m sorry.” is all Gerard manages to force out. He hoped the man wouldn’t press charges over some flowers. Now that he had been caught, he wouldn’t be returning. He immediately began wondering where he’d be able to get Mikey’s flowers now.

                “You’re sorry?” the stranger huffs angrily. “That’s all you got? Dude, you’re older than me, shouldn’t you know better than to steal from people?” He continues talking as he stiffly makes his way down the front steps and begins approaching the fence separating him and Gerard. He braces himself against the fence, breathing heavily.

                Gerard backs up, fearing the man will try to fight him. Hopefully he was all bark and no bite.  

                “I really am sorry, sir. The flowers aren’t for me. But it’s really important that I have them. And I’ve been sorta strapped for cash lately, so this seemed like the best option?” Gerard says in a rush, trying to placate the man before things escalated any further.

                The stranger continues to stare at Gerard, a scowl on his face and his breathing labored. Gerard noticed how the man seemed to just be out of breath, rather than panting out of anger. And his forehead was beginning to shine with sweat. He had only walked down three steps. How out of shape could this guy be? Gerard started to feel better about his odds if things did escalate into a fight.

                The man must have noticed Gerard’s hesitance fading. He didn’t like it. The shorter man reaches over the fence, grabbing Gerard by the collar and bringing their faces closer together. “Name’s Frank. I may look like a Make A Wish kid, but you can bet your fucking ass I could still take you down without letting go of my tank.” Frank growls out, his other hand still bracing against the fence for support.

“Tank?” Gerard wonders for a second before the thought quickly leaves. He immediately remembered why he was nervous in the first place. This man, Frank, had a way about him. A very terrifying, intimidating, slightly hot way about him. Gerard feels his face heating up under Frank’s close proximity. He looks down at the man’s hands. Every inch of skin he could see sticking out from beneath Frank’s sleeve was covered in tattoos. Gerard wondered if he’d ever get the chance to see the rest of them. Wait, no. Focus. Gerard looks back up into the shorter man’s eyes.

Frank keeps his one hand on Gerard’s collar, using the other to flip the latch on the fence and push it open. He roughly pulls Gerard through the fence, locking it in place behind them. Frank seems to think for a second, before he finally lets go of Gerard and steps away. Frank curtly points at the ground between them. “Stay!” He commands as he turns around and heads back into the house.

Gerard immediately turns to leave, hand on the fence lock. He hesitates. What was the shorter man planning? Was he going to kill him? Keep him hostage until all the flowers grew back? Gerard’s mind kept turning, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Frank couldn’t be that bad of person, Gerard tried to comfort himself. He did, after all, plant and care for the beautiful garden that had drawn Gerard in over and over.

After a few moments of thought, Gerard is shocked as he hears the front door bang closed behind him. He jumps spinning around to look at Frank. He’s speechless, as he takes in the small man in front of him.

“ _Ah_.” Gerard thinks. “ _That’s what he meant by tank_.”

 Frank has a portable oxygen tank by his side. A nose piece securely in place with connecting tubes tucked back behind his ears. The tank is on a wheeled cart, the handle in Frank’s tattooed hand. He has on a thick winter coat zipped up over a woolen sweater; scarf and beanie also in place. The tank is a collage of offensive bumper stickers and band logos. It reminds Gerard of his and Mikey’s rooms in high school. 

Frank walks over to where Gerard is waiting by the fence. “Ready?” he questions innocently, looking up at Gerard.

Gerard remains still, completely lost. He has so many questions. But also, the answer to a few he already had.

“Go…” Gerard clears his throat nervously. “Where exactly?”

“To see who the flowers are for. She must be pretty fucking special to make you go so far as to steal private property once a week. So, I want to meet her. See if it was worth it and all that shit.” Frank explains, already walking through the fence and onto the path, his tank squeaking quietly behind him.

Gerard stares in shock at Frank’s retreating back. As Frank disappears behind some trees, Gerard realizes what the shorter man had said. “Wait!” He shouts, jogging to catch up. He didn’t have to go far, however, as Frank seemed to be a very slow walker. Unsurprisingly.

“You came from the other way on this path, so I’m assuming you always continue this way, right?” Frank says, dragging his tank behind as he stomps determinedly down the path.

Gerard panics. How is he supposed to explain to a complete stranger why he brings flowers to his dead little brother’s grave every Wednesday. Wednesday. The day Mikey was born, and coincidentally, the day he died. The day Gerard killed him.

“Sir- uh, Frank.” Gerard tries desperately. “This is completely unnecessary. I’m sorry I picked from your garden without you knowing. I honestly didn’t even think anyone noticed. Otherwise, I never would have stolen from you! I won’t do it again, I swear!” Gerard stands in front of Frank, stopping him from going any further. They were almost to where the trail branched off again, leading right to the small cemetery hidden in the trees.

Gerard wasn’t ready to share that part of his life with anyone yet. Especially not a stranger that seemed to hate him for picking some measly flowers. Gerard scolded himself. They weren’t measly. They were so, so important. They were for Mikey.

“Of course, you won’t do it again, my man. Or else I’d have to beat the shit out of you with your own arms!” Frank says cheerily, making to go around Gerard.

Despite the threat, Gerard sticks his arm out to the side, further blocking Frank. He gulps. His voice is shaking as he says “Yes, I remember you saying something like that earlier. But still! Why don’t we just accept I was wrong and you so graciously put me back in my place. I’ll never stray from God’s light again.” He places his free hand over his heart in promise. “We can just go our separate ways and never, ever speak about this again.”

Frank is taking none of Gerard’s bullshit. He adjusts his nose piece and scowls up at Gerard, his eyes hardening. “Why don’t you want me to meet this girl? She ugly or something? Get out of my fucking way or I’ll _make_ you. I’m _going_ to find out.” He emphasizes this with a sharp poke to Gerard’s chest with his finger.

Gerard really, really didn’t want to do this. But, on another level, it felt wrong putting up much more of a fight against someone who was obviously not in good shape. Frank coughs and pushes past Gerard forcefully, or as forceful as he could manage.

Gerard gulps, hands dropping down to his sides, and follows a few feet behind Frank. They continue walking for a while in silence, just the sound of their shoes scuffing on the gravel. He guesses he really doesn’t have a choice in this matter. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, imagining what Frank might do if Gerard didn’t do as he was told. Can someone go to jail for stealing flowers?

Gerard notices that they are coming up to the almost hidden fork in the trees that takes them to the cemetery. He clears his throat to get Frank’s attention. Frank stops and looks over his shoulder, careful not to pull on his tube. Gerard silently points through the trees, right where the fork is hidden.

Frank smiles, pleased. “That’s it, babe! Glad you’re finally playing along! I’m tired of the awkward silence. Fuck silence, man. Am I right?” Frank hesitates in place, adjusting his grip on his cart until Gerard is beside him, then Frank continues, matching Gerard’s slow pace. By the time Gerard does catch up, his face is burning from the nickname Frank seemed to have unconsciously snuck in.

“So, mystery thief. What’s your name?” Frank asks casually, smothering another cough into his sweater.

Gerard huffs, rolling his eyes. He’s becoming less nervous and frightened the more he’s around the shorter man.

“I’m not a thief. I told you it was necessary. Plus, I apologized! Twice! And my name is Gerard. Nice to, uh… meet you? I guess?” he finishes lamely, scratching the back of his neck.

Frank laughs airily, wheezing a bit afterward. He adjusts his messenger bag. “You’re okay Gerard. Besides fucking up my garden on a regular basis.”

Gerard looks down ashamedly. “I didn’t think you’d notice. I really am sorry.” Gerard figured now was as good a time as any to begin explaining himself, now that Frank had calmed down.

He continues. “I’m an artist. Comic books mostly. I was stable for a while. I used to buy flowers every week. Whole bouquets!” Gerard’s lips quirk a bit proudly at the memory. “Tulips, lilies, carnations.” Gerard’s smile fades. “When I had some extra money left over after bills, I’d have bouquets made with things like rue, asphodel, sometimes a couple chrysanthemums. Then my ideas stopped getting picked up and I stopped getting jobs.” Gerard says quietly. “I haven’t been able to afford anything more than ramen and shitty, weak coffee for the last couple months.” He laughs scornfully at how pathetic he sounds admitting this all out loud.

He’s quiet for a moment before he looks up at Frank, only to find him already staring back at Gerard. 

“Dude… that fucking sucks. I didn’t know.” Frank says, sympathy lacing his voice. Sympathy Gerard didn’t want. “But I gotta ask, man. What did you do?” Frank questions quietly, eyes anxious. “Asphodel? Rue? Two flowers that mean regret in one bouquet? Isn’t that a bit overkill? Just say you’re sorry and take her out to dinner. It’ll be fine.”

Gerard was a bit stunned. Was Frank trying to console him? The guy he caught stealing from him red handed? But an even bigger question on Gerard’s mind-

“Wait, how do you even know that? I did research for days. I just needed… I needed to make sure I got my feelings across.” Gerard says the last part quietly, finally breaking their intense eye contact to look back at the gravel passing slowly under his dirty converse.

“Hello? Gerard, right? Don’t be fucking dense, Gerard. I grow all that shit, remember? You used to steal it from me. The seeds aren’t cheap man. Not to mention the bulbs, soil, plant food. I can go on.” Frank said accusingly, but there was no venom in his voice.

 “Money isn’t exactly easy to just come by for a useless shit like me. I obviously can’t work for it.” Frank continues, jiggling the handle of his oxygen tank spitefully. “I’m on disability right now. It’s degrading as fuck. But my parents do help some. groceries and shit.” He shrugs as if to dismiss that train of thought. “So, I needed something to fill my time, keep my head occupied. Horticulture seemed as good a hobby as any. At least this way I was making the world a little bit more beautiful every day, you know?” Frank said. He seemed to have realized what he had said belatedly. He shut his mouth with a quiet click, face turning red. Gerard pretended it was from the cold.

They were quiet, enjoying the scenery around them. Gerard loved this time of year. Well, he hated the cold, but he loved the colors. The changing of the leaves was his favorite part. The trees were starting to thin around them, meaning they were getting close. Gerard felt his heart speed up painfully in his chest.

He tried to distract himself from the awkward and embarrassing conversation he knew was coming.

“So.” Gerard started. Frank looked over at him, face still flushed. Gerard really believed it to be from the cold this time. “Not to be rude, or anything. But what’s wrong with you?” Gerard knew it was wrong to ask that way, but that’s just how it came out in his increasingly panicked state.

Frank stumbles in his walking. “You don’t beat around the fucking bush, huh?”

Gerard felt his face get hot. He pulls his scarf up to his nose, hoping to hide it.

“I admire your bluntness, Gerard.” Frank looked like he was about to continue, but he stopped, his face crumpling in pain. Within seconds, Frank is thrown into a fit of deep, wracking coughs, which leave him shaking and damp with sweat. They seem to go on forever. Frank’s face goes from deep red to worryingly pale.

Meanwhile, Gerard was losing his mind, pacing circles around Frank’s crumpled body. “Frank? Hello? What do you need? Can I help? I’m sorry I asked. Are you okay?” Gerard is making his way around Frank, gently touching every side of him. His arm, his back, his hand resting on the tank. Frank then takes a few long, deep breaths, as he braces himself against the tank.

Gerard feels so helpless. Thoughts of that night, the night with Mikey, began creeping in. There was nothing he could do, no way he could help.

Frank began coughing weakly again, shaking Gerard from his thoughts. Frank quickly adjusts the nozzle on his tank, then on his face. He breathes shakily, wiping the back of his sleeve across his forehead. He looks up at Gerard with a despairing smirk.

“You’re kind of a spaz, aren’t you?” Frank laughs weakly, looking up at the taller man from under his bangs.

A small smile forces it’s way onto Gerard’s face. He shakes his head almost disbelievingly. Gerard gently takes Frank by the elbow, leading him over to a soft, grassy area under a nearby tree. He helps Frank lower himself onto the ground, laying his tank next to him.

Gerard’s heart finally begins to slow down. “What the fuck, dude?”

Frank shrugs. “It happens.”

“What the fuck?” Gerard says again. He nearly watched a guy he just met cough his lungs out in the middle of nowhere. What would he have done if Frank had died?

Frank was solemn. “I have this thing.” Frank sighs. “Chronic bronchitis. And a bunch of other shit. It makes it almost impossible to breathe.” Frank watches the leaves falling from the branches of the trees surrounding them. He follows a crimson red one with his eyes as it’s carried on a breeze. It twists and turns, dancing freely before it lands near the wheel of Frank’s cart. “Or do anything at all, really.” He twists the leaf between his fingers, making it spin.

Quietly, Gerard says “I…didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He watches Frank play with the leaf idly.

“It’s whatever. I’ve dealt with it my whole life. I was homeschooled a lot because I had to spend so much time in hospitals and treatment centers.” Frank says this distantly, as if it’s something that happened to another person. Not to him. “I don’t need sympathy. It’s just who I am now.”

Gerard understood that more than he could express. He settles for a soft “Yeah” and places a hand on Frank’s shoulder.

They sit in their shady patch of grass, enjoying the breeze. Frank begins struggling to stand. Gerard quickly rises, taking Frank’s messenger bag in one hand and his elbow in the other, helping him to stand. Frank huffs a thanks, removing and replacing his nose piece around the strap of his bag.

“Alright,” Frank says once everything is back in place, “Let’s go meet this mystery girl.”

They talk as they walk. Finding random things they have in common. It’s all lighthearted chatter. Nothing serious. Then, Gerard sees the entrance to the cemetery and feels his heart begin to hammer in his chest. No turning back now.

As they approach, it’s Frank that begins to become uneasy. He looks around, at the front gate, the bushes surrounding the parameter. He takes in the headstones and the mausoleums further back on the property. He looks at Gerard, who is staring ahead, eyes hard. He slows his pace nervously. Oh no.

“Gerard? Where are we going?” Frank asks desperately. Gerard doesn’t answer.

Frank follows Gerard up a few aisles before Gerard picks a row and begins heading down it. The way he moves, Frank thinks to himself, is mechanical. As if he had done this a million times before.

Gerard slows to a stop at a modest headstone with a single picture in the middle and a scripture verse with dates underneath it. There’s angels holding staffs in each top corner. He wipes his hands on his jeans, turning to face Frank. He clears his throat before sweeping his arm out towards the headstone. 

“Frank. This is Mikey, my little brother.” Frank looks down at the headstone again. He sees a young boy with blond hair and glasses looking up at him with a small, shy smile. Michael Way, he reads. _So, their last name is Way_ , Frank thinks.

Gerard continues, speaking towards the gravestone this time. “Mikey, this is Frank. I just met him today. He came to see you.”

“Nice to meet you…” Frank says, over politely. He looks up at Gerard with pursed eyebrows, at a loss of what to do next. He flexes his hands nervously at his sides.

Gerard continues. “I visit Mikey every Wednesday. It’s our day. I come and talk to him. Make sure he doesn’t get lonely, you know?” Gerard takes Franks messenger bag as he’s speaking and begins to help Frank kneel in front of the stone.

The grass is green and plush. Obviously well taken care of. Frank doesn’t mind the rest. Gerard sits beside him, placing Frank’s bag on the grass with them.  Frank is full of regret.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Gerard doesn’t look away from the stone. “What was I supposed to say? Every Wednesday I visit my brother that died ten years ago? I spent all my savings on food for myself and flowers for someone who doesn’t even know that they’re there? Who doesn’t know that I’m here? That my entire life revolves around this stupid plot.” He thumps the ground with his fist angrily. “I would sound fucking crazy.” Gerard breathes heavily through his nose. “I am fucking crazy.”

The wind began to pick up, a fresh breeze ruffling their hair. The trees shivered around them.

Frank didn’t know what to say. He reached over silently and took Gerard’s hand.

Gerard just sighs next to him, his grip tightening on Frank.

Frank looks at Gerard’s face. He sees the years of pain and resentment overflowing from his eyes. It worried him. He breathes shakily. “What happened, Gerard.”

The tears come down freely now. Gerard makes no move to wipe them, he just continues to stare forward. His eyes are vacant, probably lost in the memory. “I was nineteen. Mikey was sixteen. We were at a stupid high school party. We weren’t even supposed to be there. He hated parties, but I loved the free booze.” He spits out the last part with venom.

If possible, Gerard’s grip tightens on Frank’s hand. Frank doesn’t mind.

“I got too drunk. Fucking idiot. We had a fight. I pushed him and stumbled out into the road. He came to help me as a fucking truck flew down the street. It came out of fucking nowhere, Frankie, I swear! I should have been the one to protect him. It should have been me!” Gerard brokenly shouts, his sobs making his shoulders shake.

Frank’s chest is squeezing unbearably, his eyes burning. He pushes his oxygen tube over his shoulder, out of the way, and crawls closer to Gerard. Gerard finally looks up at Frank, face red and wet with tears, expression raw and unguarded.

Frank throws his arms around Gerard’s neck, kneeling between his crossed legs. He feels Gerard bury his face in his shoulder. He feels Gerard’s whole body begin to tremble against his chest as he snakes his arms around Frank’s middle.

Frank’s not sure how long they sit there. His knees have begun to ache, and his oxygen needs to be adjusted again from being yanked to the side, so it wouldn’t get tangled between them. But goddammit if Frank was going to let go first. He wasn’t sure why, or when it happened, but he suddenly felt very protective of Gerard. He couldn’t even imagine being angry at him anymore. He felt ashamed of the way he had acted. How he suddenly judged and blamed Gerard, pushing his frustrations onto him.

He felt as if he had known the other man for years. Maybe they were kindred souls, Frank thought. Both fucked up inexplicably, unable to live normally anymore.

Gerard began to shift, sniffling and pulling away from Frank. He kept his eyes towards the ground, embarrassed.

Frank took this opportunity to sit back on his heels, resting his knees. Suddenly, he remembered his bag. He leaned forward to reach across Gerard’s lap for his messenger bag. He flips open the sleeve, gently shuffling the things inside.

Gerard watches him, eyebrows gathering in confusion. He hears the crinkling before he sees them. Frank pulls out a bundle of small yellow flowers with wax paper wrapped around the stems. Rue, Gerard realizes. Frank had brought a small bouquet of rue. They must have been the ones that Gerard had been picking when he was caught.

Gerard’s eyes widen. “Frank…why do you have that?”

Frank just smiles at him, shuffling around to face Mikey’s stone. He holds the small bouquet against his chest with shaking hands. “Hello, Michael Way. Can I call you Mikey? Mikey Way. I like that.” He smiles down at the boy in the picture, nodding to himself. “I brought these for you. I hope you like yellow.”

He hears Gerard laugh softly behind him. He reaches behind him, flailing around until Gerard finally takes his hand. He places the bouquet in the grass gently in front of the headstone.

Frank continues. “You won’t believe how we met, Mikey Way. This guy here was stealing my flowers! These flowers! I caught him red handed!” He says giggling, gaining momentum as he speaks.

Gerard gasps in shock and shuffles forward next to Frank. He doesn’t let go of his hand. “Mikey hold on! Okay, yes, maybe I was _borrowing_ some flowers from Frankie. But they were for you!” Gerard says in his defense. He lightheartedly glares at Frank, as if saying _“don’t tattle on me!”_

He looks back at Mikey. “Bro, come on. You know I would never do shit like that without a reason. Like, you wouldn’t believe how expensive bouquets are! It’s fucking crazy, man!”

Frank notices the side of Gerard’s mouth lifting in a small smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s the most real one Frank had seen all day. He wanted to see it more. Gerard continues rattling on about his week, talking animated about how one of his favorite television shows had ended. He waves his hands and shakes his head while he speaks, but still doesn’t let go of Frank’s hand.

Frank looks down at their joined hands. It was almost surreal. His tattooed knuckles and fingers, rough with callouses and dirt from his garden under his nails. Gerard’s were clean and soft, almost delicate. He was an artist, after all, Frank remembered. He liked the way they intertwined. Watching his tattoos disappear between the other man’s fingers. Maybe…he could get used to it.

He looks back up at Gerard but starts when he realizes that Gerard is already staring at him. His eyes are soft and his shoulders are relaxed.

“Thank you, Frankie.” Gerard squeezes his hand tightly.

They spend the rest of the afternoon there, chatting and telling Mikey about each other. Gerard learns Frank is vegetarian and lives alone. He also loves cooking. He brags about the things he could do with tofu.

They’re still sitting in front of Mikey’s grave hours later. Including him in their conversations. Frank was surprised how easy it was to talk to Mikey like he was there. He wished he could have known him when he was alive. From what Gerard had told him from when they were younger, Frank and Mikey would have been close friends. They would have even been the same age.

“I’ll have to show you some time.” Frank laughs. “My tofu tacos are fucking amazing, man.”

“Yeah, okay.” Gerard’s face heats up as he realizes that means Frank wants to see him again. 

Frank notices. “Gee? You okay? You look a little red. Are you cold? Do you want my scarf?” he asks obliviously. He makes to remove his nose piece to get to his scarf when Gerard quickly reaches up and grabs his wrists to stop him.

“No! No, I’m fine, Frankie. Please don’t take off your tube. It’s too cold. You need it.”  

They stay the rest of afternoon, only leaving when it begins to get dark. It had gotten chillier, the wind stronger and sharper against their skin.

It was time to say goodbye, much to both of their dismay. Frank was surprised by how much of a good time he’d been having, just sitting and talking with the Way brothers. It had been a long time since Frank had actually left the confines of his front gate.

Gerard says his usual farewell, promising Mikey he’ll be back next week as always. He presses a kiss to the pads of two of fingers and places them against the small picture of Mikey. Frank watched from a few feet away, feeling like he was seeing something that should be private. Gerard walks over to Frank, grabbing his hand as if on impulse. Frank looks down at their hands, stunned. Gerard just smiles nervously back at him as if to ask, " _this okay?"_

Frank clears his throat, head twitching in conformation. He looks back at Mikey’s grave and throws up a peace sign with his free hand.

"Catch you later, Mikey Way."

They make their way back to the path that will lead them to Frank's, and then Gerard back to his small apartment.

It's extremely cold now, the sun finally sinking below the horizon. They shuffle closer together as they walk, hands smushed between them. No one seems to mind, though.

Suddenly, Gerard speaks up. "We were going to start a band. Mikey and me." He doesn’t look at Frank. "We had it all planned out. I was going to work and save as much money as I could. And as soon as he graduated high school, we were going to move to L.A. Make it big. Finally get away from Jersey." his voice was tight with emotion. “That was the dream. We were going to help people. Save kids. All that good shit, you know?”

Frank knew. He had had similar plans when he was younger. Before his mom broke it to him that with the way he was, it was practically impossible for him to follow his own dreams.

"It’s funny you say that, Gerard Way. Back in the day, I swore I was gonna be the best guitarist ever. Travel the world playing and screaming my lungs out." Frank's voice took on a tone of nostalgia. "Turns out my lungs had a different idea."

Instead of looking sympathetic like Frank had expected, Gerard looks almost excited.

"Frankie! We could have started a band together!" He raises their joined hands excitedly. "Mikey was gonna play bass, our friend Bob was gonna play drums, and I was gonna sing!" he says animatedly. "We needed a guitar player!"

Frank can’t help but smile at Gerard’s antics. He would take this Gerard over the one that was drowning in regret and self-doubt at the cemetery. But, Frank thought, he liked both Gerard’s without a doubt.

Franks laughs, going along with it. “Yeah! I have a buddy named Ray. I met him at a physical therapy session a couple years ago. He’s one of the trainers.” Gerard is smiling cutely, a dimple indenting his cheek. This makes Frank never want to stop talking. “He’s like, the best fucking guitar player I’ve ever seen. He’s so cool, man. He writes, produces, and records all of his own shit! He could definitely hook us up!”

“Wow!” Gerard says dreamily.

“You have to sing to me one day, Gee. Promise me, okay?” Frank looks into Gerard’s eyes, asking him to say yes.

Gerard’s mouth is open. He stares at Frank, gauging his sincerity. “Yeah…okay, sure. Anytime, Frankie.”

Frank smiles, nodding. “Good.”

They had made it back to the main path that Frank’s house was on. Benches were sitting every few meters, intercepted by trees and streetlamps. Gerard couldn’t help but notice how their dull yellow light seemed to make Frank’s tan skin glow. His eyes looking more sunken in than before. The shadows cast by his oxygen tube seemed stark against his skin. He looked beautiful, Gerard thought.

When they finally make it to Frank’s gate, their noses are red and raw, and their joints are stiff from the cold. Despite that, Gerard feels a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time. Nothing was magically better. He wasn’t magically cured, and his heart wasn’t suddenly healed. But, Gerard thought, looking at Frank. Maybe in the end they could help each other.

They’re standing by the gate of Frank’s fence, their linked hands sitting between them. Frank begins giggling, high pitched and cute.

“What?” Gerard asks, self-consciously, eyeing Frank suspiciously.

“Nothing! It’s just-“ Frank smothers his giggles with a couple coughs. “This morning I was fully prepared to kick your ass, mysterious thief. And now...” They both glance between them.  

“Oh.” Gerard says slowly. “Yeah.” He looks back up at Frank, smile gone. “I really am sorry, Frankie. There’s not really anything else I can say? I’m all out of excuses. I just couldn’t bring myself to go see Mikey with nothing.” He begins to pull his hand away.

Frank tightens his grip, not letting him go. “Gee. You really don’t have to apologize. Honestly, I wasn’t even angry at you this morning. You were too pitiful to be mad at.” Frank giggles, squeezing Gerard’s hand to let him know he was kidding. “I was just looking for an excuse to be mad. I had a bunch of pent up frustrations to get out, and you were the perfect outlet.” He confesses, voice full of shame.

Frank steps closer, bringing their hands up between their chests. “I’m sorry, Gee.”

Gerard’s breath catches in his throat. He feels warm. Was he getting sick? Maybe he’d caught a cold from being out all night. Or maybe… Gerard leans in closer, his eyes drooping. Maybe…

Frank smiles, leaning in too. He could feel Gerard’s shaky breaths against his lips. He lets his eyes fall closed.

At the last second, Frank pulls away a small amount. He can feel Gerard open his eyes in shock. Frank tilts his head up, brushing their noses together gently. Gerard’s skin is icy to the touch. He turns his head further, running his nose along the side of Gerard’s cheek.

Gerard could feel Frank’s oxygen tube as he rubbed against Gerard’s face. His breath hitches. It felt hard and cold in comparison to Frank’s skin. He could hear the quiet flow of air coming from the spouts under Frank’s nose. It was weirdly endearing.

Frank pulls back slowly, heart thumping almost painfully in his chest.

Gerard is breathing heavily, eyes lidded and face flushed. “Why…” he asks drunkenly. He’s not sure what he’s trying to ask. Why did he do that? Why did he pull away? Why didn’t Frank just kiss him?

Frank smiles again, shyly this time. “You should go home. You’re gonna catch a cold.”

“You’re one to talk.” Gerard says quietly.

Frank chuckles lightly. “That’s a low blow, dude.”

Gerard’s smiling. The realest one in a long time. He hopes it’s able to stay this time. “Bye, Frankie.”

Frank pulls away, dropping Gerard’s hands to grab the handle of his oxygen cart. He turns and goes through the gate, closing it behind him. When Frank gets to his front steps, he turns back to Gerard. “See you next Wednesday, Gerard Way.” He turns and walks inside, the door closing softly behind him.

Gerard sighs. It suddenly feels much colder than before. “See you Wednesday, Frankie.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, turning to walk down the dimly lit path home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. If people seem to enjoy this, I might write a small sequel focusing more on Frank! Thanks again!  
> Flowers:  
> • White lilies: The soul of the departed has received innocence after death.  
> • White tulip: Can be used to ask for forgiveness  
> • Asphodel: My regret follows you to the grave  
> • Rue: Regret, repentance  
> • White Chrysanthemums: Grief, sorrow, truth  
> • Pink carnation: Remembrance


End file.
